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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401534">a picture of you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluu/pseuds/bluu'>bluu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Exes to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Timeskip, Yamaguchi Tadashi is a Good Friend, i can't believe that's a tag but so true ao3!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:14:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,791</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28401534</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluu/pseuds/bluu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your graduation, or for when you made the Frogs. I’m proud of you, you know.”</p>
<p>
  <i>Would you try again? Would you see me?</i>
</p>
<p>“Tetsurou,” Kei says, voice cracking, “what do you mean by that?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>232</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>a picture of you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>krtsk brainrot; this is not very good sorry in advance</p>
<p>dedicated to may @mildliners on twitter thank u for reminding me how much i missed these two fuckos</p>
<p>title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPJxDtUYm3g">locket by lila drew</a>. the piano song referenced in the fic is <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uBzUfjkdPq4">merry christmas mr. lawrence</a> from the movie of the same title.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Kei thinks it's a bit like a reckoning when he sees his ex again. It’s like a movie, or a hilariously dramatic play. The scene: Tokai University’s gym for an informal scrimmage against another team in Division 2 of the V.League. The weather is slightly overcast, slate clouds wisping gently over dull sun, cold autumn light beaming through the high windows and onto the court. It’s match point, and the coaches, benchwarmers, and a handful of spectators watch with bated breath as a teammate steps up to serve. Tadashi is one such observer, and even from yards away Kei can feel his stare boring into Kei’s form, a stare full of anticipation and something a little like reverence.</p>
<p>Stage left: Kei. Hands raised, shoulders loose. Behind him he hears the dribbling of the volleyball, every server’s holy ritual before the jump. Then, the sound of a palm tells Kei to brace himself for war, and his eyes stay trained on the opponents across the net, like battalion soldiers on a nation’s borders. Ready to strike.</p>
<p>The ball soars overhead and one of the soldiers dives down to bump it up, a high receive that stays suspended in the air like a rising sun before arcing over to the setter. The toss is quick, blurring velocity straight to the right flank of the court, and instinctively Kei moves his body in the direction of the set. Positions himself to counter.</p>
<p>Right as the spiker slams the ball Kei leaps. Arms above, fingers outstretched. With a swift flick of the wrist, he redirects the orbit of this blazing comet back down to the ground, where it lands across the net with a heavy thump. A whistle blows, then cheering. Kyoutani’s pat-smack on Kei’s back, a congratulatory gesture coded in aggression.</p>
<p>Kei’s eyes flicker over to the stands for Tadashi. He looks panicked, eyes flickering over to the side. Kei frowns before following his gaze over by the doors of the gymnasium.</p>
<p>He’s in a suit, leaning against the door frame. Kei barely notices the clipboard tucked beneath his arm and instead notices, very pointedly, the way his hair still coifs haphazardly the same way it did five years ago. The suit looks expensive. He waves. Gives a little smile that Kei has never seen before.</p>
<p>And then Kuroo Tetsurou exits, stage right. Almost as if he was never really there in the first place, and it was all just a trick of nostalgia, hallucinations forged from distant memories. Kei wouldn’t know the difference, anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>But Tadashi saw him too, and the two of them are on a bench at Yoyogi Park, a few blocks away from the university, the paths lined with towering trees that have shed their green for burnt orange. Tadashi hands Kei a canned coffee and stares across the lake, the waters rippling with the cruel gusts of fall.</p>
<p>“Good game you had, Tsukki,” Tadashi says, sipping tentatively at his own drink.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Kei replies. And then, because he doesn’t want to avoid the subject, he asks, “Did he say anything to you?”</p>
<p>“Asked how you are. I said you were doing great. Told him you were playing for the Frogs, you were just Tokai for a club scrimmage for uni. Then he was like, <em>oh I know, that’s why I’m here.</em>”</p>
<p>Kei frowns. “What the fuck is that’s supposed to mean?”</p>
<p>“Said he works for the V.League now,” Tadashi says after a long gulp, a dribble of strawberry calpico rolling down his chin. He rubs it away with the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “So I guess that’s what he means.”</p>
<p>“I thought he went to school for business,” Kei mutters. He suddenly remembers that he has a warm can of coffee in his hands, so he cracks it open, the smell of mocha delicately dissipating as fast as it arrives. “How did he end up working for the V.League?”</p>
<p>Tadashi sighs, “I don’t know, Tsukki. We didn’t talk for that long. He popped in at the last few points of the third set and I didn’t even notice him before he tapped me on the shoulder.” He pauses to look over at Kei, right in the eyes. “You could always ask him, you know.”</p>
<p>“No, I can’t,” Kei says immediately. “I deleted him off of social media years ago. I don’t even have his number saved. Besides, I don’t even want to.”</p>
<p>Tadashi levels a look at him, an eyebrow lifted, before he reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of Seven Stars. He lifts the cover open with a gentle nudge of his thumb, and tilts the box over to Kei, an open invitation.</p>
<p>Kei takes a smoke and sticks it in his mouth as Tadashi flicks on his lighter, the flame burning the far end of the cigarette. Breathes in the bitter smoke. Washes it down with bitter coffee. Then says, “He didn’t even say anything to me in there.”</p>
<p>“Probably didn’t want to bother you,” Tadashi offers. “You just won the game for your team.”</p>
<p>“That’s horseshit,” Kei mutters, almost unthinkingly, “He would never pass up the chance to bother me.”</p>
<p>“He didn’t bother you for the four years after you broke up, though.”</p>
<p>He closes his eyes and inhales in another drag from his cigarette. “That was intentional on my part.”</p>
<p>Tadashi leans back on the bench and scoots in a little closer to Kei, nudging his side gently. “Okay, Tsukki,” he says, placatingly. “You don’t want to talk to him at all?”</p>
<p>Kei thinks about the suit. He thinks about the way Kuroo’s hair still sticks up the same way but it’s a little shorter, a bit more trimmed, the sides gelled off slightly in some facade of professionalism. The silver watch on his wrist as he waved.</p>
<p>“—We’re in Tokyo, anyway. You can have a quick catch up or something. For closure. No harm done.”</p>
<p>Thinks about the gentle quirk of Kuroo’s lips, something unreadable, unknowable. If Kei thinks too much about it he’ll think it’s a smile of sweet nostalgia, or maybe sadness. Maybe Kuroo was remembering all the times they spent up late calling each other on the phone and whispering about all the insignificant young things. Or maybe Kuroo was thinking about nothing at all.</p>
<p>“Tsukki?”</p>
<p>“I’ll text him,” Kei says. Besides, he has Kuroo’s number memorized anyway.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s like a movie, see. Boy meets older boy at camp. Older boy annoys boy, gets on boy’s nerves. Older boy worms his way into boy’s life through little lessons about volleyball technique and grander lessons about perspective and motivation. Boy begins to tolerate older boy a little bit more and then they become friends. They talk more. They text. They see each other at scrimmages and matches. Boy develops feelings for older boy and hates himself for it.</p>
<p>Unlike the whirlwind romance cinemas that Kei likes to indulge in secret, his relationship with Kuroo was not filled with tearful kissing scenes in the rain, or heartfelt love letters sent with unduly yearning. Instead, their relationship was trapped into a box walled off by a three hundred seventy kilometer separation and by the two years between sixteen and eighteen. Quietly uttered confessions over the phone, Kei discovered, was not a conduit for fingers intertwined together, or for missed moments suspended in time, or for feeling seen by the one person he wanted to be seen by.</p>
<p>And so at seventeen, Kei quietly breaks up with Kuroo. In the year of their relationship, they only ever made it out to see each other three times. Three times that Kei barely remembers: sometimes, if Kei closes his eyes, he can remember the sweetness of cherry blossoms falling like snow onto Kuroo’s shoulders, and Kei dusting the petals off as Kuroo smiles gently back at him. Sometimes he remembers the feeling of a hand curled in his.</p>
<p>But the thing about breaking up with someone you never truly saw and knew was that you don’t have the reminders. Kei doesn’t walk down the little alley behind the konbini three blocks away from Karasuno and remembers Kuroo leaning against the stone wall between classes, eyes shut in stillness, chilled <em>ramune </em>in hand. He doesn’t look at the koi pond and remembers Kuroo skipping rocks over glass water. He doesn’t remember Kuroo in his bed, on his couch, cold feet and muffled laugh. Kei is in a desert, full of mirages. Occasionally if he doesn’t blink for long enough he can see the whispers of Kuroo, with traces of touch and brightness. But then it wavers away, never having existed: gone to the feverish heat of what Kei had once desperately wished was true.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>To: 5555780391</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sent at 11:02PM</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Saw you at my match earlier. I’m in town for two more days. Want to grab coffee?</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>From: 5555780391 </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Received at 11:46PM</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Hey. Yeah lets do it. Tomorrow at 10a ok? If youre staying near Tokai I know a small cafe nearby</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>They have good pastries</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>To: Kuroo Tetsurou </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sent at 12:13AM</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sure. See you.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ve never heard you call him anything other than Kuroo-san,” Tadashi says from the other side of the hotel room. He’s leaning against the bed frame, knees propped up as he watches Kei shrug on cashmere. “Actually, I don’t think you refer to him by name at all. It’s always just <em>he did this, he did that. Him.</em>”</p>
<p>Kei tucks his shirt into his slacks. “What’s your point?”</p>
<p>"I mean, it's so singular," Tadashi says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Just <em>him. </em>Like tunnel vision."</p>
<p>"I called him plenty of things," Kei rejects as he wipes down his glasses with a soft lens cloth, opting to ignore Tadashi's point entirely. "Called him an asshole a few times. Dropped the honorific at some point. Called him Tetsurou towards the end."</p>
<p>And then softly, Tadashi laughs, "You know that's not what I meant." He straightens his back against the frame, eyeing Kei up and down. "You excited?"</p>
<p>Kei takes a deep breath and he feels like a pit of coals suddenly dropped down to his stomach. "I feel dreadful."</p>
<p>"Mm."</p>
<p>"It's just—" Kei pauses. "We were so young."</p>
<p>"You're still young," Tadashi points out. "You're twenty-one."</p>
<p>"You know that's not what I meant," Kei echoes, fiddling with the collar of his shirt, pushing the last button in place. "I feel so fucking stupid. It's been four years."</p>
<p>Four years of white noise. Since seventeen Kei has graduated high school and started his archaeology and philosophy studies in college. Four years is a long time, Kei thinks, and if he imagines his life on a winding path down a long highway he thinks that Kuroo Tetsurou might be a pit stop, or a detour of sorts, that led him to travel down an unknown road to things like pursuing professional volleyball, if only for a few years.</p>
<p>And then Tadashi, all-knowing, laughs and says, “You know what they say about first loves.”</p>
<p>Kei sighs. He doesn’t like thinking that Kuroo is his first love, because that poses the question of whether Kei is Kuroo’s first love, or if he was just a brief stint in the ongoing timeline of Kuroo’s life. Kei doesn’t like lying to himself about the very real possibility that Kei wasn’t Kuroo’s first love. Or that first loves even matter, contrary to what they might say about first loves. To call Kuroo his first love would imply that love is linear. A straight line with a starting point and an endpoint, a journey with a destination. That there is a second, third, fourth love.</p>
<p>And that’s just the thing: loving Kuroo Tetsurou is not linear. At seventeen Kei tries to erase Kuroo out of his life and the circle breaks. He forgets about Kuroo for a little while. And then once in a while when he’s passing by the little garden he remembers that Kuroo likes lilies, and sometimes when he’s listening to music on his runs he won’t skip the piano song from that movie that Kuroo likes, the one with David Bowie. Kei allows himself, even for just a moment, to feel things he has shut away, before forgetting it all again.</p>
<p>“Closure, huh,” Kei says.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s been a while,” Kuroo starts. “How have you been?”</p>
<p>They’re in a coffee shop a few blocks north from the hotel Kei and Tadashi were staying at. It’s the kind built with black wood, polished over and shiny, and little artisan espressos in tiny paper cups that were outrageously priced per the metropolitan standards of Tokyo. Kuroo’s not in an expensive suit this time — it’s a Saturday, after all — but he’s in a black turtleneck and Kei doesn’t let his eyes drift across his neck and the slopes of Kuroo’s shoulders. Instead, Kei focuses on the profiterole.</p>
<p>“Good,” Kei says. “Tadashi tells me that you work for the V.League now?”</p>
<p>Kuroo leans back in his chair, ruffles a hand through his hair, and chuckles a bit. “Yeah. I’m in the economy supply department. Which basically means I do whatever they ask me to and eventually if I work there long enough I’ll get to handle the actual decision-making. It’s not so different from any other company, actually.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Kei says. The profiterole is matcha flavored, and delicately light. “Still studied business in uni, then, I take it?”</p>
<p>“Yeah. What are you studying? Did you end up studying archaeology like you wanted to?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Kei replies, still refusing to look at Kuroo in the eye. “That and philosophy.”</p>
<p>“That’s cool,” Kuroo says. “I’m glad you ended up doing what you wanted to.”</p>
<p>Kei looks up then, and Kuroo’s smiling at him, the same one the Kei saw back in the Tokai gym yesterday. Upon closer look it looks wistful, gentle — not a smile Kei has ever seen before. Kei wonders if maybe this the smile Kuroo might’ve worn if Kei had broken up with him in person, and if saying goodbye would’ve been all the more difficult. The thought stings, so Kei grips his little espresso cup a little too hard, and some of it splashes on his hand.</p>
<p>“Listen,” Kei starts. Then falters, because what he might’ve said was <em>Tadashi actually told me to come here, </em>and <em>I really wasn’t planning on speaking to you ever again, </em>but Kuroo looks a little too fragile for that, so instead he continues, “... I guess I wanted to thank you. For helping me like volleyball.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” Kuroo says, blinking, surprise flitting across his face. “You don’t need to thank me for that. You’ve always had potential. You were just too broody to see it.”</p>
<p>Kei’s cheeks flush a little bit, and he turns his attention back to his pastry, staring furiously at the green tea cream that’s starting to melt into a small puddle on his plate. “... Then thank you for taking a chance on me, even though I was broody.”</p>
<p>“You don’t need to thank me for that, either,” Kuroo says quietly. “Look, back then—”</p>
<p>Kei closes his eyes.</p>
<p>“—I thought you hated me, you know? Or more accurately, I think you just hated everything. I wanted to give you that space.” Kuroo pauses, as if choosing his next words wisely. “It’s been four years. You’ve grown up well.”</p>
<p><em>I still think about you, from time to time. </em>“Thank you.”</p>
<p>“The distance was hard on you. It was hard on me, too, though I think less.”</p>
<p><em>I wonder how you’ve changed these past four years. </em>“I hope you’ve been well.”</p>
<p>“I think I have been, in the grand scheme of things. You’ll still be in Sendai after graduation, I assume?”</p>
<p><em>There has been no second, third, or fourth. </em>“Yeah. And you’ll be in Tokyo.”</p>
<p>“Kei. Can I still call you that?”</p>
<p><em>I don’t think I’m still in love with you but part of me still holds onto you for dear fucking life because I think it’s you in there. I think I stole little parts of you and melded them into myself, and now I don’t know the person I would be if there weren't pieces of Kuroo Tetsurou telling me that I deserve to be happy. I’m sorry for stealing. </em>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for your graduation, or for when you made the Frogs. I’m proud of you, you know.”</p>
<p>
  <em>Would you try again? Would you see me? </em>
</p>
<p>“Tetsurou,” Kei says, voice cracking, “what do you mean by that?”</p>
<p>
  <em>Would I see you? </em>
</p>
<p>Kuroo’s smiling again, and he reaches over to touch Kei’s hand gently, smoothing out the tension in his knuckles as Kei’s fingers loosen instinctively. “I’ve never wanted anything else for you other than your happiness. If it took leaving me for you to be happy then I’m glad we parted ways.”</p>
<p>“Dammit, asshole,” Kei says, gritting his teeth. Pretends that he’s not desperately trying to hold himself together. “You sound as if you’re going to tell me you love me still.”</p>
<p>Kuroo falls quiet. And then he says, “I think I could, if you let me.”</p>
<p>Kei squeezes his eyes shut again. “You’re really telling me that you haven’t moved on to other people.”</p>
<p>“No,” Kuroo says. “I’ve dated a few people here and there. Nothing serious.”</p>
<p>“And if I’ve moved on? What if I don’t want to let you?”</p>
<p>“Then so be it,” Kuroo says.</p>
<p>Kei opens his eyes. Allows himself to really look at Kuroo, really <em>look, </em>and Kuroo’s jaw is sharper than it used to be. Broader, wider. He has a few forehead wrinkles and he’s got new piercings on both his earlobes, little silver studs. But his eyes still crinkle at the edges when he smiles, and his smile is still lopsided, and his eyebrows are still knit together crookedly when he laughs.</p>
<p>“Why now?” Kei asks instead. “We’d still be long-distance.”</p>
<p>“There’s a V.League office in Sendai, you know,” Kuroo points out. He leans back a little in his chair, lifting his hand away from Kei’s own. “I actually make it out there quite often, like every month. I think they’re planning on transferring me there eventually. But I don’t know. I think you’re ready, if you want to give me another chance.”</p>
<p>“I never gave up on you,” Kei admits quietly. “I just…”</p>
<p>“Right person, wrong time?” Kuroo suggests lightly, but his voice shakes a little, and Kei notices his mouth trembling a bit, before Kuroo bites down on it and musters up a grin. “I get it, Kei. We’ve grown up a bit. Let me take care of you this time, okay? And you take care of me too.”</p>
<p>Kei imagines Kuroo in his bed, waking him up in the middle of the night with cold feet and muffled laughter, Kuroo at the koi pond near his apartment tossing breadcrumbs to the fish. Imagines all the things that they could’ve had four years ago, and wonders how they might be now.</p>
<p>Kuroo reaches over and takes his hand again, and this time Kei grabs it back, gripping it hard.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Kei says, swallowing hard. “Okay.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“How was it?” Tadashi asks when Kei returns to the hotel room a few hours later.</p>
<p>“Good,” Kei says, touching his bottom lip gingerly, the skin on his mouth still tingling. “Good.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s a slow process. Kei lets it be one: languidly falling back to the swing of things, texts and calls. After all, they’ve already been in love once, and they’re older now. The vibrancy of falling in love for the first time has dissipated into something softer, quieter, and Kei takes his time in learning and knowing this Kuroo.</p>
<p>He has a little biography in his head for the Kuroo Tetsurou of today: twenty-three, works in the V.League as an accountant but also quality-assurance and general performance analyst. He still likes lilies and has a little painting of them above his couch because he can’t raise a plant to save his life. He’s learned how to cook, and his favorite dish to make is mushroom risotto, though he also likes making cocktails too, of which mojitos are his favorite. Kuroo said they make him feel minty fresh, though Kei has no idea what the fuck that means, because Kei hates rum and stays far, far away from it ever since freshman year of university. Kei’s more of a whiskey guy, and Kuroo tells him that he can make a mean old fashioned too. Kuroo Tetsurou is still an asshole, but it’s mellowed out a bit, because now he’s a working professional and he can’t piss too many people off, and besides, he’s always been charming.</p>
<p>Sometimes Kei wonders if this is the right choice for them. With four years of unknowing each other, Kei still thinks he’s in that desert sometimes, desperate for a lifeline, walking aimlessly through scorching heat. Kei’s still a little scared. Kei thinks that Kuroo Tetsurou can ruin him, and that vulnerability is like splitting his chest open and inviting a guest inside to trash the place. He wonders if he’s a little stupid, lighting old flames so abruptly.</p>
<p>Kuroo visits him for the first time a few weeks after Kei returns to Sendai, and Kei remembers that Kuroo Tetsurou is everything but an old flame. Kuroo Tetsurou is a hearth that never left, continuing to burn even as Kei ignored the warmth for so long, and that trying again is the only thing he can do. The only thing that feels right, knowing Kuroo still cares for him so wholly.</p>
<p>Kuroo kisses Kei on the mouth and it’s sweet, gentle. Like blooms in springtime.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sendai isn’t a bad place,” Kuroo says on the fourth visit. “I wouldn’t mind staying here for a while.”</p>
<p>They’re on Kei’s couch, watching some old film that Kei can’t remember the name of with the lights off, the only light in the room emanating from Kei’s laptop. They’re huddled under a wool blanket, and Kei reaches a hand for the bowl of popcorn in Kuroo’s lap before pausing. Stays still. “Wait.”</p>
<p>“Your apartment’s a little small,” Kuroo says, and something in Kei’s stomach flutters. “You need a bigger bed.”</p>
<p>“I’m a broke university student going into museum curology, for fuck’s sake,” Kei snaps lightly. But he’s nervous, apprehension bubbling up to his throat when he says, “You’re the salaryman here, <em>you </em>buy a bigger place with a bigger bed.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Kei,” Kuroo says, throwing his head back and laughing. “In two months I’ll be doing exactly that. Hope you don’t mind me complaining in the meantime.”</p>
<p>“Fucker,” Kei grumbles. Still, he smiles, and rests his head on Kuroo’s shoulder. Closes his eyes, and savors the warmth to come.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the anti-laurels</p></blockquote></div></div>
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